


the colors of autumn

by hbalbat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Autumn Fluff and Antics, Autumn Stucky, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbalbat/pseuds/hbalbat
Summary: Bucky and Steve have been putting off the raking of the autumn leaves for too long. They know they have to get it done considering the entire lawn is covered, but things never go as planned, do they?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	the colors of autumn

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I wrote for the HBC Fall in Love Drabble Challenge on Tumblr (check me out @hbalbat - I promise I’m nice)! I loved so many of the prompts, and I knew that I wanted to take some of them on, even if I’m a little bit late. I’ll just do them on my own blog, so come check me out if you like this one! ‘Raking leaves’ is what came to me first, so I rolled with it (considering that this is the first piece I’ve had motivation for in over two weeks, I had to take what I could getー even if it was short!). I hate it at this point, but I sucked it up and posted it. If you enjoy this, please, please leave kudos/comments! Thank you, it’s much appreciated ❤ With that said, let me get into it.

On a usual fall morning, Steve and Bucky would ease into the day, relaxing with a few cups of coffee, eating breakfast together at the counter. If they didn’t have anything to do, they might go for a run, snuggle up and watch a movie, or even just take a nap. It was a chilly October day: leaves had started falling, the days were getting shorter, and the warm summer air was now gone. 

Today was the last Saturday of October, though, and it was not a typical fall morning. Today was yard-work day. Leaves were strewn throughout the yard, covering the dying grass in a blanket. And although more leaves would inevitably fall throughout the month of November, it made it easier for them to rake the leaves once each month. 

The sun begins to rise on Saturday morning, and Steve wakes with it. It’s relatively early, so he pulls out his phone and lies there for a while. When he finally sits up and stretches, still in bed, Bucky is still resting next to him, messy hair laying over his face and wrinkles on his cheeks from the pillow. Steve checks his phone and reads 9:30 a.m. “ _ Shoot, _ ” Steve thinks. “ _ I’ve got to get Bucky up. _ ” 

Waking up at 9:30 a.m. wouldn’t usually be an issue, but they had to eat breakfast, get dressed to go outside, and then get to work. The yard wasn’t going to clean itself. “Hey, Buck. Honey, we’ve got to get up. We’ve got things to do today,” Steve coos into Bucky’s ear. All he gets is a muttered groan in response as Bucky rolls over to turn away from Steve. 

“Come on, Bucky. Let’s go,” Steve grunts with a pause between sentences, trying to nudge Bucky out of bed. Kneeling on the mattress and using one foot as leverage, Steve uses his shoulder to roll Bucky over. He didn’t expect Bucky to give way so easily: he flips over the edge of the bed and hits the floor with a thud. Steve winces. All that’s heard is a muffled ‘ow,’ Bucky’s voice still tired with sleep. There’s a delay, but Bucky sits up, only his head poking out from the other side of the bed. He rests his head in his hands, propped up on the mattress.

“Ugh, I’m too tired to argue with you right now, Steve. I was about to get up, you know,” Bucky sighs. Steve awkwardly chuckles as he explains, “heh, yeah. Sorry about that, Buck.” He thinks for a moment. “I think I can make it up to you, though.” Bucky raises his eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “How’s that?” 

Steve says nothing, just huffs a breath of amusement through his nose, and he reaches for Bucky’s hands, pulling him up, over the bed, and into the kitchen. “Can I make you a special breakfast? I actually started something last night if you want it,” Steve suggests as Bucky sits down at the counter. Bucky’s nose scrunches as he smiles, thrilled that Steve would offer to make them breakfast. 

“So, I’m taking that as a yes?” Steve asks. Bucky nods and makes his way around the counter. With a wide grin on his face, he throws himself into Steve, hugging him tightly. “Yes, please. Thank you, sweetie. You’re the best.” Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, eyes squinting while giving Bucky a small smile. “Of course, honey. I honestly thought you would have pushed back this morning— you know what we need to get done today.” 

They sigh one last time and pull away. “I do,” Bucky laughs. “And, hey, it’s alright about this morning. I’m just glad you didn’t switch the lights on.” Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes as he walks to the fridge, pulling out his surprise from the middle shelf. In a glass pan covered in aluminum foil, there are thick slices of baguette, soaking up an egg, milk, and cream mixture. 

“Steve, you really made this for us?” Bucky asks, eyes lighting up, having a slight clue as to what it could be. Steve nods as he pulls off the foil. On top of the bread lies a crumble, dried cranberries, and orange zest. Overnight french toast! “But, Stevie, you only make this for Christmas morning!” Bucky exclaims. “Oh, well, you know. I was in an extra-sweet mood yesterday, I guess,” Steve explains, preheating the oven now. “It just worked out that today is yard-work day?” 

“Well, thank you, Steve. You really are the best. I love you, honey.” Bucky says as he sits on the barstool. The clock reads 10:15 a.m. now. “Of course, Bucky. I love you too, hun. I set a timer for 40 minutes. We can relax for a bit. Maybe get dressed, that way we don’t waste more time? The sun’s setting early now,” Steve suggests.

“Good idea,” Bucky admits, hopping off of the stool and pulling Steve into their room. They decide to save their showers for later— they’d get dirty enough outside. As Steve slips on his jeans, boots, white tee, and red flannel, Bucky pulls his messy, loose curls into a ponytail. Some thick pieces slip out and end up falling around his chin, despite the many tries to tuck them behind his ears. 

Bucky goes into the closet to pull out his own fleece half-zip, jeans, and combat boots. Steve stands in front of the bathroom mirror now, brushing his own hair. Bucky waits patiently before he questions, “Hey, pal, you ready to get breakfast? The timer’s probably going to go off soon.” 

Steve puts down the brush and turns to Bucky suddenly. “Yeah, one sec…” Steve trails on the last word. Bucky sits on the edge of the mattress, giving his signature tilted smile. His brows rise in confusion. “What, Stevie?” Bucky inquires, concerned now. Steve’s mouth opens more as if preparing to say something. “I, you, you just look great, Buck.” 

With that, Bucky’s cheeks burn red. “Stevie, I’m just in a pullover. It’s nothing special. You look gorgeous in that flannel, though.” Steve only laughs. “I mean it, Bucky. You look beautiful. But come on, let’s go. You’re right: breakfast is probably nearly ready.” 

No later than when they first step onto the kitchen tiles, the timer rings. “Would you look at that?” Bucky says, as Steve runs over to the oven, slides the oven mitts on, and pulls out the tray. The french toast sizzles, its sweet smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves wafting throughout the room. After impatiently waiting a few minutes and brewing a pot of coffee, they cut it apart. 

“Here you go, hun,” Steve says as he places the plate in front of Bucky, a hot cup of coffee with it. Bucky’s eyes light up yet again. “Thank you again, Steve. But, hey, serve yourself, too. Or, better yet, give me the spatula.” Bucky reaches for a dish and the spatula and cuts out a few slices for Steve. Carefully, he lays them on the plate and slides it to Steve. “Here you are, Stevie,” Bucky serves with a smile. 

Steve and Bucky eat their breakfast as quickly as possible so they wouldn’t miss any more daylight outside. It was already nearly 11:30 a.m. now. They didn’t need to be in before dark, but it sure would be nice. After packaging leftovers and turning off the lights, Bucky and Steve begin to head outside.

As they take their first few steps outside, they realize how bad the yard had become. Leaves and small branches covered nearly every inch of the grass, their two lawn chairs covered. It was times like these that Steve and Bucky wished they hadn’t decided to live in a house shaded in trees. 

“Well, Bucky,” Steve sighs, “Do you want to grab the rakes from the shed? I’ll grab the chairs and put them away in there.” “Sure thing, Steve. Do we need anything else?” Steve shakes his head. “I don’t think so, at least not right now. Let’s get going.” 

With that, Steve and Bucky head to the shed, grab their rakes and come back to the front lawn. Bucky heaves a deep sigh. “You know, I would love to be sleeping right now. Maybe watching a movie and cuddled up on the couch? Anything but this.” Steve laughs. “Come on, Buck. It can’t take us  _ too _ long.”  **_But can it?_ **

The answer is yes. No matter how hard Steve and Bucky tried, they’d get distracted— placing small kisses on each other’s cheeks, throwing piles of leaves at each other, and anything else so they  _ couldn’t _ get their work done. It took some time, but eventually, they buckled down and got a good portion of the yard cleared. Steve had acquired a neat stack of leaves: Bucky, not so much.

“Stop it, Steve. You’re messing up my pile!” Bucky cries, insisting that Steve ruined his mess. “I am not. Look,” Steve retorts, slightly confused. Without another thought, he pulls some more leaves from the disheveled mound towards his own tidy one. “I’m just making mine neater.” Bucky furrows his brows, taken aback. “Yes, you are— stop it! I put effort into raking these, Steve! Look: this is my pile, and that’s yours.” 

Steve takes one look at the explosion that is Bucky’s “pile” and his own. “I don’t know if you can call that a pile, Buck.” Bucky doesn’t respond, only scowls. He retaliates by yanking some of Steve’s leaves into his own mound, the neat edges muddling. “You’re making a mess of my pile— Bucky— quit it!” 

“Oh, yeah, Steve? Not so nice, is it?” Bucky jeers with a tilt of his head. Steve just glares; he’s beginning to get annoyed. As if they were back in the 20s, arguing over who got to play with which toy, Steve and Bucky keep yanking the leaves back and forth. Eventually, they end up ditching their rakes, tossing them aside, and just using their gloved hands to aggravate each other. At one point, Steve gives up. A sly grin forms on his lips.

“Fine: you want a messy pile, Bucky? I’ll show you messy,” Steve taunts as he tackles Bucky without warning, knocking them both into the towering stack of leaves. The leaves crunch underneath them and cushion their fall. Bucky lets out a shocked ‘oof’ noise, the wind knocking out of him. The displaced leaves fly into the air, floating down as Steve hovers over Bucky, his jeans getting wet from the damp leaves underneath them. As they look up, the leaves flutter down: all different colors, shapes, and sizes.

One small carmine-colored leaf floats down, delicately catching on the bridge of Bucky’s nose, balancing between that and his forehead. He gazes inward intently but leaves it be. “You think you’re funny, Rogers?” Bucky questions now, pulling his eyes away from the leaf and putting them back on Steve. He gives him a playful glare. “A little bit, yeah. What about you, Barnes? You happy now?” Bucky ignores his last two questions. 

“You’re such a punk. Look, you’ve made even more of a mess now. It’s going to take us hours to get this all put away.” Steve rolls his eyes, still holding himself up over Bucky. He stares at that maple leaf on Bucky’s nose, colored all different shades of red and orange. The edges curl slightly upwards and nearly ache to be brushed off. Steve fights the urge forming in his belly to lean forward and nudge it off, but he can’t resist getting closer to those ice-blue eyes. 

“Here. Let me get that for you, Buck...” Steve begins, lowering himself to Bucky. He nudges his reddened nose from the brisk air against the red leaf, hitting Bucky’s own nose as he did. Bucky picks up on it, surprised, but not against it. He raises an eyebrow. 

“What was that, Stevie?” Steve’s already ruddy cheeks turned an even rosier shade, flustered. “N-nothing, Buck.” He focuses on Bucky’s bottom lip, which is now sliding under his front teeth as he smirks. “Uh-huh... I’m sure. Come here: for real this time, Rogers.” 

Steve has no choice but to do as Bucky tells him. He leans in once again, nuzzling noses as they collapse in the leaves, not caring if the leaves get stuck in their hair or on their clothes. At this point, neither Steve nor Bucky even cared about the mess of the lawn anymore. They had all autumn to get around to it, and they both knew they’d rather have a sweet moment together. Tomorrow was another day. They press their lips onto one another’s, chapped from the brisk air. Their cheeks heated up as their lips locked: having that, their warm clothing, and the surrounding leaves keeping them warm.

After a moment that was not nearly long enough, they pull away, leaves sticking out left and right from their fleecy clothing and tousled hair. “Hey, how about we head inside? We’ve got all day tomorrow to get this mess cleaned up,” Steve suggests. 

Bucky takes a moment before saying anything. “Hmm, why not. Can you make some hot cocoa while I get a fire going, though? I want to get cozy.” As Steve picks up the rakes that they had tossed aside, he offers, “Sure thing, Bucky. And if you’re lucky, I’ll even get going on a separate batch of hot apple cider for you, on top of the one for the group game night this weekend.” Bucky’s eyes go wide, practically gleaming, eager to get warm and enjoy Steve’s cooking. 

Without another word, Bucky takes the rakes from Steve and runs them to the shed, trailing Steve as he heads inside. Just as Steve had promised, he cuts up the chocolate that he bought for his signature hot chocolate and begins heating the milk on the stove. Bucky changes into his sweats and cozy hoodie, prepping the fire while Steve makes the cocoa.

“Do we have marshmallows, Stevie?” Bucky calls, crumpling up the newspaper and throwing each ball into the fireplace. In the other room, he hears a cabinet door open and shut. “Yeah, we do. Minis, too!” Bucky mumbles a little ‘yes’ under his breath as he lights the match, holding it to the paper. The edges crumble, glowing orange, and the ashes fall. The flame jumps from each fold, making its way to the kindling, and then the logs. Bucky stands back and admires his work. The fire set now: Steve just needed to finish the hot chocolate and change, then they could get comfortable. 

“Hey, honey, it’s ready!” Steve calls only a few minutes later. “Okay, sweetie!” Bucky makes his way to the cabinet, pulling out two cups for both of them. Pulling the pot off of the stove, Steve pours the creamy drink into them, steam still rising from each mug. “Thank you, Stevie,” Bucky gushes, placing a peck on Steve’s cheek. “Always, Buck. Let me just change, and maybe we can put on a movie?” 

Bucky smiles, grabbing some mini-marshmallows and dropping them in his mug. “That sounds great. I’ll take this to the couch for you?” Steve nods and runs upstairs. Carefully, Bucky picks up the mugs and carries them to the living room, placing one on a coaster at each end table. He grabs plenty of blankets and throw pillows, setting up a comfy spot for him and Steve to share. Tucking himself into the corner, he waits eagerly for Steve to come down. 

It only takes a couple of minutes, but Steve runs down the stairs in his slippers, long sleeve shirt, and flannel bottoms. “You ready, Bucky? Thanks for setting this all up.” Bucky responds with a, ‘yes I am,’ and flips the blanket over Steve as he reaches for the remote. They came back inside with the one plan to get cozy, so that was the one thing they successfully did. And although they had planned to clean the yard today, it didn’t get done. But, hey, tomorrow is another day. 


End file.
